The first time that I remember it happening was on a family vacation to Myrtle Beach. Although it occurred for over two years, there are only a few instances that I can vividly remember. The memories make my stomach churn. I had no idea that the first time was nowhere close to being the last time. And I had no idea the pain and torment that it would cause me. For months on end, I was afraid to be alone in my own house with him.
The first time that I told someone, I felt my heart drop to my feet and my ribs collapse in on themselves. The muscles in my body were rigid and I grasped desperately at any distraction while I waited for a response. On the first day of seventh grade, I received a response. I was pulled out of my classes for the entire day. Two Child Protective Service agents took me into an unused classroom to question me. I remember my school counselor sitting in the corner, …show more content…
I didn’t answer. This man scared me. I was thirteen years old and a stranger was trying to make me talk about things that made me so uncomfortable it was all I could do not to throw up. Didn’t this man know how uncomfortable I was? I remember my eyes darting towards the woman that was with him, begging her to save me from this awful man’s questions. I received only a piercing stare from her. Remembering this conversation causes almost as much discomfort as remembering the abuse does. After school that day, when I saw my parents, I was horribly ashamed of myself. My parents knew that I was depressed, but they thought it was because they had separated. At this point, I had been self harming for over a year. They thought they understood my depression and destructive habits since learning about what had happened, but I didn’t. If I was depressed because I was being abused, then my depression should have ended there; or began to taper off. However, it lasted for close to five years after the day that I met with CPS
The first time that I told someone, I felt my heart drop to my feet and my ribs collapse in on themselves. The muscles in my body were rigid and I grasped desperately at any distraction while I waited for a response. On the first day of seventh grade, I received a response. I was pulled out of my classes for the entire day. Two Child Protective Service agents took me into an unused classroom to question me. I remember my school counselor sitting in the corner, …show more content…
I didn’t answer. This man scared me. I was thirteen years old and a stranger was trying to make me talk about things that made me so uncomfortable it was all I could do not to throw up. Didn’t this man know how uncomfortable I was? I remember my eyes darting towards the woman that was with him, begging her to save me from this awful man’s questions. I received only a piercing stare from her. Remembering this conversation causes almost as much discomfort as remembering the abuse does. After school that day, when I saw my parents, I was horribly ashamed of myself. My parents knew that I was depressed, but they thought it was because they had separated. At this point, I had been self harming for over a year. They thought they understood my depression and destructive habits since learning about what had happened, but I didn’t. If I was depressed because I was being abused, then my depression should have ended there; or began to taper off. However, it lasted for close to five years after the day that I met with CPS